


ficlet meme responses

by clumsygyrl (thegirlthatisclumsy)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco, The Used
Genre: M/M, ficlet requests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-26
Updated: 2007-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlthatisclumsy/pseuds/clumsygyrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a handful of ficlet requests from my livejournal</p>
            </blockquote>





	ficlet meme responses

\---------------   
mcee requested: Bob/Frank. You know how in LotMS, Frank says very seriously how he thanks God every day for giving them Bob? How unhappy Frank must've been in that crucial period in 2004 when Gerard was bottoming out and Matt was on his way out? THAT. Something about how Bob saved the band in Frank's eyes. OR, about Frank thanking God for him, because religious boys are hot, yo.  
\---------------

 

Frank wished on a lot of things when he was little. Stars, when he could see them, in the New Jersey sky got wishes for a new bike or his very own skateboard. Cars driving under a bridge got wished on for a new stack of comic books. New snowflakes were prompted to give him a baby sister or brother that never showed up. 

Frank wished a lot when he was little.

As he grew up and Church became more than a place that he was dragged to each Sunday, he changed wishes into prayer.

But those didn't seem to work as well as stars.

++

Matt wasn’t good for the band. Not that Frank had any say really. They had gear that had been around longer than he had.

But Frank knew. 

Frank knew.

He traced his fingers over his front pocket, the metal cross and plastic beads outlined against the denim. 

Padre nostro, che sei nei cieli, sia santificato il tuo nome, venga il tuo regno…

++

Gerard was fucked up. Really and truly fucked up. So was Frank.

But as fucked up as Frank was, he could tell Gerard was Fucked Up. Capital F and U.

Frank rubbed his cheek against the slippery smooth feel of the leather jacket and listened to Gerard talk about misguided saints and fallen angels. He had no idea if this was another one of Gerard's ideas for a song or if he was reciting a passage.

Oddly, it felt the same.

++

He had no halo but Frank knew.

Ringed in the haze of burning cigarettes and the noise of a dingy back bar, Bob stood out in stark relief.

Frank touched his fingers to his pocket, empty years ago.

But he could feel the weight and press of the rosary, ghost heavy and cold.

++

The nights are quieter now. 

Gerard's voice doesn't slur unless he's been up for days on end. There's no stale stink of vodka and painfully awkward stumbles across vast miles of asphalt.

Frank's head was quiet now.

He felt the warm heavy weight of Bob against his back, the deep even breathing, and the slow onetwoonetwo inandoutinandout of pulse and breath there. Right there for him to hear and feel.

Frank's own private little litany.

++

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost...

 

-fin-

\---------------  
canadiankracka requested: Can I have some Jon/Spencer? Prompt? Hmmm....puppies!  
\---------------

"May I help you sir?" 

Tuesday afternoons were slow and Jon really had nothing better to do than stock the chewtoys. And check out the customers.

"Oh yeah. I. You see." The guy fidgeted and made a face. "I found this thing." He unzipped his hoodie halfway and Jon looked in. There was a tiny twitching nose and a tuff of wet fur and two ears. "It was crying outside the library and." The guy shrugged, hair flopping into his eyes trying to look unconcerned.

But Jon knew a dog lover. He reached out and rubbed his fingers against the top of the puppy's head. "He looks okay. You're going to have to take him to the vet to get him checked out for sure. I can set you up with some food, a puppy bed, and a collar and leash." He smiled a bit. "We're also having a sale on chew toys."

The guy's mouth twisted a little in what Jon would assume passed for a smile. "Sure, it's all going on plastic. The life and times of a college student."

Jon laughed and started loading a basket for him. "Know it well. I'm Jon." He said tapping his nametag.

"Spencer."

Jon tilted his head and reached over to pet the puppy's head again. 

"Thanks," Spencer said looking up at Jon.

Jon grinned and dropped a bag of puppy cookies into the basket. "You're welcome."

They walked down the aisle, shoulders close enough to brush and to hear the puppy whuffle sleepily against Spencer's sweatshirt.

 

-fin-

\---------------

azrielen asked for: Pete Wentz/Bert McCracken  
\---------------

 

And the full moon pills got me out on the street at night

 

It wasn't as if he meant to kill him. Not really.

++

Pete was happy. He shook his head and re-wrote the sentence. Pete wasn't unhappy. Nodding, he continued.

Pete wasn't unhappy. He wasn't happy either. He lived (according to a very loose definition of the word) and did what he thought was right. He minded his keepers and did as they asked. He saw to his duties accordingly and nodded when pointed at to act. 

He wasn't unhappy, but he wasn't happy either.

He was living, but not really existing.

++

Bert was happy. He was high as a motherfucking kite. It's what made him happiest. He had his brethren, his fold, his people surrounding him. Not one dissenting voice. Not one.

Except for the tiny one in the back, nagging and gnawing at him.

One more pill and snort and it was quiet.

++

"Those Way Brothers," the words were derisive and bitter. 

Pete almost stuck out his tongue to taste them, but just slicked it over dry chapped lips. "I only know the one really.

Bert nodded and sweat alongside Pete. "I know."

Pete looked over and noticed the off kilter tip of Bert's head, the unwashed dull sheen to it. He was familiar in that way that familiarity breeds hostility and rage. 

Pete thought he could see himself in that.

"You want to go somewhere?" 

Bert just smiled and nodded. The voice was quiet.

++

He sat there. And watched him.

He sat on the other side and watched him.

"We're a lot alike." He said, smiling bright and off kilter. A smile that wasn't a smile that meant more and nothing more than what it was.

"I know."

++

Bert ran his thumbnail over a groove in the wood, bleary eyed and watching Pete move around the too small space. "You know every minute we're alive, we're actually dying?"

Pete tilted his head, fall of hair dull sheened and heavy across his eyes. "Then people you spend your time with become your killers."

"Sorry." 

Pete shrugged and poured Bert a glass of juice. "Me too."

 

-fin-

\--------------- 

saba1789 requested: Bob! I want something with Bob please! Prompt, prompt, prompt... Cookies! Um, you didn't say the prompt had to make sense! *g*  
\---------------

 

This was fucking impossible.

"Are you... are you fucking kidding?"

Well, fuck. Bob grimaced and turned around, hand wrapped in a bundle of papertowels. He didn't even know if they had an oven mitt. He knew that he couldn't find one.

"Are you... no." Gerard sat down on the edge of the table. "Is that an Easy Bake oven?"

"Yes," Bob growled and stacked the tin on the edge of the table. "Have a fucking cookie."

Gerard looked from the cookie to Bob and then back again. "Uh..."

Bob glared at him. "Eat it or I will punch you in the nuts."

Gerard took a fork and flipped the cookie out. "Mmm," he said grimacing and then blinking in surprise. "Mmm." He licked his lips. "Oh. Wow. That's... that's actually good."

Bob tried not to smile. "Cool."

Gerard nibbled the other half of the cookie and didn't know if he should mention that Bob had a smear of frosting across his nose. He swallowed down the last bite and thought it might be safer if he just kept his mouth shut and keep eating.

 

-fin-


End file.
